


the littler things

by johnllauren



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Campaign: Graduation (The Adventure Zone), Canon Compliant, Falling In Love, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Yearning, oh my god they were roommates, this is so soft. they are so soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23851000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnllauren/pseuds/johnllauren
Summary: Argo Keene is completely and totally besotted with Fitzroy Maplecourt. Which would be totally fine and not a problem at all if Argo wasn’t Fitzroy’s sidekick and roommate, but he is both of those things, so that makes this whole thing kind of the biggest mess he’s ever gotten himself into (which is a feat in itself).The thing is, Fitzroy never intended to get close to Argo, it just happened. There's just something about Argo that he finds himself drawn to.Or, how Argo and Fitzroy find themselves falling for each other and don't know how to handle it.
Relationships: Argo Keene/Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Master Firbolg & Argo Keene & Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt
Comments: 12
Kudos: 126





	the littler things

**Author's Note:**

> this takes place vaguely after episode 12 (the latest episode at the time i'm posting this)  
> literally inspired by the yearning tag on tumblr

The thing is, Fitzroy never intended to get close to Argo, it just happened. He knew Argo was keeping secrets from him, but there was something about Argo that he found himself drawn to. Perhaps it began after they found everything out about their dog-headmaster and the danger they found themselves in. The stress forced them to bond. Or maybe that’s just what Fitzroy told himself, and he’s always felt some sort of way about Argo, and now any time Fitzroy lets Argo out of his sight he doesn’t know if Argo is going to come back and he finds himself absolutely unable to deal with that. 

Instead of dealing with that or the implications of it, he spends more time in Argo and the Firbolg’s room, attributing it to the fact that they have a mission now, a bond forged in the fire of a corrupt school and a life-threatening situation. 

They’re doing homework in relative silence, the Firbolg murmuring accounting facts to himself, Argo occasionally throwing bemused looks about it at Fitzroy. Fitzroy and Argo are sitting on opposite ends of Argo’s bed, because Fitzroy avoids sitting on the floor like the plague, books strewn out in front of them. The sun sets, and Fitzroy finishes his work, but he continues to pretend to read his textbook to avoid leaving. 

“Alright,” Argo says, shutting the book on his lap, “I’ve gotta go. Lessons with Jackal.” He moves to stand, and Fitzroy doesn’t hide his pout. 

“Argo, it’s late,” Fitzroy complains, “Don’t go.” As if Argo would just decide not to go to class because Fitzroy asked.

“I have to.” He pulls his shoes on and walks towards the door, extending a hand to wave goodbye at the same time Fitzroy reaches out to reach for him dramatically. 

Their fingers brush, ever so slightly, and Argo leans into it, presses his hand against Fitzroy’s. Argo’s hand is surprisingly warm, though it’s rough and calloused from what Fitzroy supposes must years of work. Fitzroy freezes, loses himself in the moment and the feeling of it, not even realizing how stupid he must look. But as quickly as he reaches out, Argo pulls away, and walks out the door like nothing happened. Fitzroy’s hand stays extended even after Argo leaves, either because he’s in shock or because he wants to pretend the contact never stopped. 

He catches himself smiling at the door, the beginnings of a blush creeping up his cheeks. Fitzroy shakes his head and returns to whatever book he had been pretending to read, only to find himself completely unable to focus, unable to get the feeling of Argo’s hand against his from consuming his thoughts.

“He is late for his lessons with Jackal. I thought he was not going.” The Firbolg says, looking up from his book.

“Is he usually tardy like that?” Fitzroy asks, suddenly finding himself concerned about Argo’s academic record, of all things. 

But the Firbolg shakes his head. “He has never been late. I think he wanted to spend more time with you.”

Fitzroy feels his face heat up, the tips of his ears begin to redden, and he uses every muscle in his face to keep from smiling. “Oh.” He says. 

The Firbolg returns to his work, seemingly unaware of Fitzroy’s disposition. With Argo gone, there’s really no reason to pretend he isn’t done with his homework, and Fitzroy closes his books and clears his throat. “Right. Well, Argo was right, it is getting late. I’d better get ready for bed.” 

“Goodnight, Fitzroy,” the Firbolg says. 

“Goodnight, my Firbolg friend.” Fitzroy responds, leaving the room and dropping his books on his bed so he can use his hands to cover his face. It’s only then that he lets himself smile, _really_ smile, lets the ecstacy of Argo’s touch wash over him. And if he makes a noise that sounds a bit like a squeal, it doesn’t matter, because he’s alone. And if he can’t sleep that night because he’s staring at his ceiling and thinking about Argo, well… that’s okay too. 

\--

Argo Keene is completely and totally besotted with Fitzroy Maplecourt. Which would be totally fine and not a problem at all if Argo wasn’t Fitzroy’s sidekick and roommate, but he is both of those things, so that makes this whole thing kind of the biggest mess he’s ever gotten himself into (which is a feat in itself). 

Because of the whole roommate thing, paired with the fact that Fitzroy and the Firbolg are kind of his closest friends both at school and in general, Argo spends an abundance of time around Fitzroy. He sees Fitzroy the way so few people get to - the way he wakes up, disheveled and grouchy because of how goddamn early it is, how his eyes light up when he talks about his passions, the beautiful domesticity that comes with watching Fitzroy walk around their room late at night, eyes pinching, as he gets ready for bed. 

It is simultaneously torture and the best parts of Argo’s day. 

The three of them are getting ready for bed, after a long day of classes and lying to everyone who isn’t each other (or, in Argo’s case, just plain everyone). It’s been a while since they’ve started using all the rooms in their new-and-improved dorm as communal living space, something Fitzroy pretended to hate until he didn’t, which has led to Argo and Fitzroy’s things everywhere around the dorm and the Firbolg trying a new patch of floor to sleep on every night. 

Generally, the arrangement suits them, but the moments at night while they get ready for bed and try to get their things for the next day’s classes in order has proved to be chaos. After five minutes of searching, Argo’s blame-taking notebook turned out to be under the Firbolg’s accounting textbook (he had left it there after trying, in vain, to explain the concept of the 1% to him). Fitzroy is fighting with his own backpack while he tries to fit everything he needs inside of it, which is difficult because his version of “everything he needs” is very different from everyone else’s. 

Fitzroy is humming to himself while he does it, loud enough for Argo to hear. Argo doesn’t recognize the song, but that doesn’t matter, he’s never heard Fitzroy sing or hum like this, so carefree and unafraid of judgement. 

Argo’s heart does a backflip in his chest. 

\-- 

Argo is very, _very_ comfortable in their dorm room. Not that it’s a bad thing. Perhaps it just seems strange to Fitzroy because they come from different backgrounds, but that still doesn’t stop him from finding it rather… undignified. 

That is to say, there are days Argo doesn’t wear a shirt when walking around their room and Fitzroy absolutely does not know how to handle it. 

It usually happens on weekends, because they don’t have class. Argo will wake up late, right before Fitzroy and the Firbolg are about to get breakfast, and then all three of them will spend the day lying around their room. Except on those days, Argo will wear sweatpants. And nothing else. At first it annoyed Fitzroy that anyone could have the audacity to walk around like that. 

And then, well, things changed. 

Like now, for example. Argo is sitting - or, “chilling,” as he called it - and reading a book that, by its cover, looks like a romance novel, and he notably lacks a shirt. Fitzroy is trying to focus on his own shit, which is becoming increasingly impossible when Argo is _distracting_ him like this. 

He should not be allowed to work under these conditions.

Yes, Argo looks very good without a shirt, but it’s more than that, because seeing his bare skin exposed like this means Fitzroy’s mind wanders to other things. Like having the freedom to reach forward and touch Argo, the kind of comfortable intimacy he was never able to have, or Argo’s bare chest pressed against his, gentle skin-to-skin contact. He’s also pretty sure Argo sleeps shirtless, and the idea of waking up next to Argo, bed-headed and shirtless… 

And then the pen Fitzroy had been playing with snaps in half, and its ink cartridge explodes, mostly all over Fitzroy’s hands. Fitzroy lets out a yelp of surprise and cradles the pen before it gets ink all over his clothes, tossing it into the wastebasket. Argo looks up. 

“What did you do?” Argo asks, laughing at him, but Fitzroy can’t even bring himself to be mad because Argo’s laughter sounds like a song. 

“Pen exploded everywhere,” Fitzroy grumbles, getting up to wash his hands in the bathroom. 

Fitzroy returns to his room five entire minutes later, hands scrubbed raw but still partially stained with black ink. Argo is sitting in the same position when Fitzroy walks back in, his book now closed.

“Are you alright, Fitz?” Argo asks, voice betraying something that sounds like concern.

Fitzroy nods. “Stupid cheap pen,” he says, making his way towards his bed.

“Wait, Fitzroy,” Argo says, standing up and stopping him, “you’ve got ink on your face.”

“Oh. Where?” 

But Argo says, “I’ll get it,” and moves closer, so he’s only inches away from Fitzroy. He moves his hand up to Fitzroy’s face and rests his palm on Fitzroy’s jaw, rubbing his cheek with a thumb to get the ink off. The touch is enough to send sparks running through Fitzroy’s veins, and for a second he thinks Argo’s got to be charming him or something, but it’s just his insane overreaction to Argo’s touch. Argo is so close to him that he can feel Argo’s breath on his face, soft and warm, and he’s sure Argo can feel his. Argo’s lips are drawn together in concentration, and when Fitzroy realizes this it takes him an additional two seconds to realize he’s staring and another to tear his gaze away. 

It’s intimate, too intimate, and Fitzroy really hopes Argo can’t hear the way his heart is practically pounding out of his chest. Every molecule in his body is screaming _kiss him,_ but that would ruin both the moment and their friendship, so he doesn’t. Instead he steels himself, tries to think of anything that isn’t Argonaut Keene right in front of him, shirtless and touching his face like Fitzroy is something to be handled gently, something to be cared for, and god, he is so far gone. 

“There, I got it off,” Argo says, but he doesn’t move right away. He lingers there, hand on Fitzroy’s face, bare chest just inches from Fitzroy’s own, looking like he’s thinking about something. And then the moment passes and he steps away. 

“Right. Uh. Thank you.” Fitzroy says, stumbling over the syllables. 

“Yup, uh-huh, anytime, Fitz,” Argo responds, just as awkward, and he returns to his seat to continue his book. 

Fitzroy turns away, reaches his hand to hold his face in the same way Argo had, to preserve the feeling of the touch, but it doesn’t feel the same. 

\-- 

Argo leaves in the middle of the night all the time. Fitzroy knows this, that it’s for his lessons with Jackal, has gotten used to it, but that doesn’t mean he likes it. Every time he lets Argo out of his sight is another opportunity Argo could be hurt, could die, without Fitzroy there to protect him. And it terrifies him.

It’s gotten to the point where Fitzroy waits up for Argo to get home, just so he can be sure Argo will come home, safe and sound. And it’s not like that means anything - he’s just protecting his sidekick. It’s normal. 

So he waits, sits next to the door in the dark, occasionally drifting off for a few minutes. Argo will come home unharmed and ask Fitzroy what he’s doing, and Fitzroy will reply by saying he just wanted to make sure Argo was safe, and they will go to sleep. 

Tonight is different. 

Tonight Argo enters slowly, quietly, like he’s afraid or he doesn’t want to disturb anything. But Fitzroy is still waiting by the door diligently for Argo to come back, so he notices, turns the light on. 

And Argo is bloodied. 

“Oh my god, Argo, what-” Fitzroy says, standing immediately, moving closer to Argo with a hand outstretched as if he could do anything to take the pain away. 

“‘S nothing, Fitz,” Argo says, trying to brush the concern away. 

“Argo, you’re bleeding.” 

There’s a cut above his eyebrow and what looks like a bruise blossoming on one of his cheeks. Blood is coming down from the cut at what should probably be a very concerning speed, smudged along the side of his face, presumably from where Argo had tried to swipe it out of his eye. 

“Yeah, I’m aware, Einstein.” 

“Let me help you,” Fitzroy says, forceful, staring Argo down.

Argo relents. “Fine.” 

So Fitzroy fetches the first aid kit, walks with Argo to the bathroom. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asks gently, tilting Argo’s chin so he can get a better look at the injuries. 

“No,” Argo mumbles, looking down. 

“Okay. That’s okay.” Fitzroy wipes the blood away with a cloth, takes the disinfectant out of the first aid kit. “This might hurt,” he adds as he dabs at the cut, and Argo grimaces when it stings but says nothing. Fitzroy works diligently, applying some sort of cream to the cut and a bandage over it, despite Argo’s protests. 

“You’re going to get an infection,” Fitzroy says in his defense as he puts the bandage on, but Argo doesn’t argue with him. 

He can’t do anything to help the bruise, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling bad about it - it looks painful. “There. All done.” 

“Thank you, Fitzroy,” Argo says as they leave the bathroom and return to their dorm. 

Fitzroy nods, closes and locks the door behind him. “You’re safe now,” he says, and he doesn’t know if he says it to calm Argo down or to assuage his own worries about Argo. 

Argo just looks at Fitzroy, and Fitzroy meets his gaze. They stay there for a long time, just looking at each other, like they’d be having a conversation if only they knew what to say. But Argo’s eyes are pinching with exhaustion, so Fitzroy just reaches out to take his hand and gives it what he hopes is a reassuring squeeze. “Goodnight, Argo.” 

“‘Night, Fitzroy.” 

“Just Fitz.” Fitzroy corrects, because as annoying as it was in the beginning, the way Argo calls him Fitz gives him butterflies now. 

“Fitz.” Argo repeats. 

\-- 

When Argo gets home the next day, he stands in the doorway of what is technically Fitzroy’s room awkwardly, waiting for Fitzroy to look up and acknowledge him. It takes a moment, but Fitzroy does. 

“Argo! Are you alright?” 

Argo is still wearing the bandage, but he can’t even tell if he wants to or if he just wants to make Fitzroy happy. 

“Uh, Fitzroy, I was wondering…” he trails off after a futile attempt to find the words. 

“Yes.” Fitzroy says. 

“You didn’t even hear what I was going to say.”

Fitzroy smiles, gentle and trusting, and it makes Argo’s heart feel a certain way. “I couldn’t say no to you.” Fitzroy says. 

Argo wants to kiss him. 

“Could you teach me to fight?” Argo asks instead. 

“What?” 

“I - I need to know how to fight. To fend for myself.”

“Argo, you’re a rogue.” 

“Yeah, but,” Argo gestures to his face, “apparently I’ve still got to know how to fight.” 

Fitzroy nods. “Alright. Okay. Yeah, I can help you fight.” He stands, moves closer to Argo. “Here?” 

Argo laughs harshly. “I think our dorm is the only place that’s safe.” 

Fitzroy knows he’s right. “Alright. Were you punched?” He asks, gesturing to the now purple bruise across Argo’s cheek, and Argo nods. 

“Okay. You wanna know how to block or how to punch?”

“Both.” 

Fitzroy nods. “Watch me.” And he makes a fist. “You’re gonna wanna make a fist like this, ‘cause if you do it any other way you’re gonna get your fingers broken.” 

Argo copies him. “Good.” Fitzroy says. “Now throw a punch.” 

“ _At_ you?”

“No. Please don’t punch me. Do it into the air.” 

Argo punches the air and feels incredibly stupid doing so, but Fitzroy is watching him intently nonetheless. “Okay, so you’ve gotta work on your form. Look, I’ll show you,” Fitzroy says, touching Argo’s arm and moving it into a position that doesn’t feel entirely natural. Argo’s skin burns underneath Fitzroy’s touch, though, and he feels his cheeks beginning to heat, his heart beginning to speed up, just from being so close to him. “You’re gonna want to punch like that,” Fitzroy is saying, moving his arm to mimic a punch. 

Argo tries his best to punch again, copying Fitzroy’s instruction. 

“Good!” Fitzroy says, grinning in a way that makes Argo’s heart flutter. But then his disposition changes, and he’s looking at the wound above Argo’s eyebrow. “How did they get close enough to do that?” He asks, trying his best to sound like he isn’t terribly, terribly concerned. 

“Uh, they kind of, like,” Argo mimes a low kick and taps Fitzroy’s shin with his foot, “kicked me like that, and I fell, and then they got on top of me.” 

Fitzroy nods. He shows Argo how to kick properly and makes Argo repeat until he’s satisfied with his form. “Okay, now try it on me.” Fitzroy says. 

“Kick you?” Argo asks, incredulous. 

“Come on, Argo, we both know that kicking the air and practicing position isn’t going to do anything when - if - you’re attacked again. Go on. I’ve been kicked before, it’s not a big deal.” 

“Okay,” Argo says, but he’s terrified. He takes a step back, tries to remember everything Fitzroy has taught him, and kicks. 

And Fitzroy goes down, but he’s braced for the impact. It’s a soft fall, and then he rights himself so he’s lying on the floor, looking up at Argo, smiling. “That was good!” he says. “I didn’t think you’d actually knock me down.” 

“Did I hurt you?” Argo doesn’t think he could live with himself if he hurt Fitzroy. Before Fitzroy can respond, he’s on the floor on top of Fitzroy, trying to see if Fitzroy got cut during the fall or hurt himself. 

“I’m fine, Arg-” The sentence dies in Fitzroy’s throat when Argo straightens out, his face above Fitzroy’s, only inches apart. 

They’re both entirely silent. Argo’s body feels glued to the spot, then, unable to do anything but _look_ at Fitzroy. Fitzroy’s gaze is somewhere else, though, and Argo can’t place it until Fitzroy bites his lower lip the way he does whenever he’s nervous. And that’s when Argo realizes he’s staring at his lips. 

“Fitz, kiss me.” Argo says, desperate, breathless. 

“You’ve got me pinned down.” 

“Oh, right, fuck.” Argo gets off of him, sits, waits for Fitzroy to get up. 

Fitzroy sits next to him, eyes his lips in a silent question, and Argo nods. And then Fitzroy moves forward, places a hand on the back of Argo’s neck, and kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him. And Argo kisses him back.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr: lafayettesass  
> talk to me about these good good boys. i can't stop thinking about them.   
> i also live for feedback/comments xx


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